


Quaint Reality

by Lazarus_Zugai



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, POV Second Person, Short, Why Did I Write This In Second Person, when I say short I mean really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:01:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29068500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazarus_Zugai/pseuds/Lazarus_Zugai
Summary: You're contemplating lunch, when... Something odd happens, and a guest from another place lands in your reality.A short little drabble my brain forced me to put down, and also the first fic I've properly finished in ages!
Kudos: 7





	Quaint Reality

It’s about one in the afternoon. Standing in the kitchen of your small apartment, you consider the options available for you for lunch. Yesterday, you were feeling under the weather, so you put off grocery shopping for another day, and the contents of the fridge really are a testament to how poor a choice that was. Those leftovers probably are just barely on the verge of edible at this point, and honestly, you’re kind of sick of days old pasta at this point. Pulling a drawer open, you spot a mostly full package of sliced cheddar. Hmm. The little… Cabinet? Cavern? Butter holder. The little butter holder in the door is still plenty stocked, since you never got around to that baking you were planning on. But, this might be something good. A quick shuffle over to the pantry, and you find half a loaf of bread. It’s nothing special, just the whole wheat stuff you’ve been getting, because it’s supposed to be better for you. And if you’re being honest with yourself, it’s better than the stuff you were getting before. Three things, and you’ve got the making of something rather nice, at least for a scrounged lunch.

A quick nod to no one in particular, and you find the one good pan in the house. You keep telling yourself you’re going to get more, maybe a nice cast iron or something, but it never seems to happen. There’s just always more pressing things to spend money on, after all. So, the non-stick pan you got as a moving out present will have to do. As you look over the handful of pieces you’re putting together, a thought comes to mind, and you double check the pantry. Most of the canned goods you’ve got aren’t exactly appetizing right now. In fact, you’re not sure where you got a decent chunk of what’s in there. The jellied cranberry makes sense, you always stock up on that during Thanksgiving. But canned ravioli? Low sodium chili? What appears to be a year old can of nacho cheese? All of that’s worst case scenario food, if there ever was such a thing. With a sigh, you slide the cans aside, hoping that what you want is there… And what do you know? A single can of condensed tomato soup. It’s a little dented, but that should be fine. Luckily, you’ve got a few pots clean, a wooden spatula that hasn’t splintered yet, and the one bowl in the place that’s not cracked is drying in the dish rack. So… That should be enough to get this done.

Soup first. If you do it the other way, you know you’re just going to end up with sandwiches that are sad and lukewarm, which would ruin the entire experience. So, you put a pot on the stove, and get the soup going. It’s rather brain dead, all things considered. Even for an amateur cook like yourself, this isn’t really something you need to put much effort in on. Which would be the point of this whole endeavor, wouldn’t it? Quick and dirty, warm and filling, all that jazz. As the soup burbles away, you find yourself humming a small tune, the credits song to a game you’d replayed the other day. It happens out of habit more than anything else, just something to fill the air.

THUD!

Thud? You turn towards the noise, which appears to have come from your bedroom. For a second you worry if it’s an earthquake, but nothing seems to be shaking. And if it had been an earthquake, the precariously stacked pile of books on your coffee table definitely would have fallen. A thud like that deserves investigation, thought not before you quickly turn the stove top off. If there’s a robber, or one of the local strays managed to get in somehow, you’d prefer to be able to deal with that without also accidentally burning the apartment building down. Though, come to think of it, it would be pretty tough for either of those to get into your room. You’re on the third floor, overlooking what amounts to an empty gravel lot. There’s not even any trees on that side of the building, let alone anything else that would let someone get up this high. Still, better safe than sorry, so you grab the golf club you keep beside your front door. Bludgeon gripped tightly, you move to the door, and open it quickly. It’s dark in there, of course, so keeping your club pointed towards the interior, you flip the lights on. And there, on the floor in front of your computer desk, is… _Her_.

You blink once, twice, three times, your head tilting to the side. She’s on her knees, one hand on the floor, the other rubbing the back of her head. Her hair’s not as bright as you would have expected, more of a soft auburn than anything else really, tied up in the long ponytail you’ve seen plenty of times. After all, that game’s one you just keep coming back to, isn’t it? Something about it is comforting, despite how sad it gets. You lower the golf club, trying to think of something, anything to say, and as you do so she raises her head. And then you see her eyes. Where her hair seems less vibrant than the game would let on, her eyes are just the same. Brilliant, jealous emeralds peer at you, welling up with tears. She’s smiling now, and asks you something.

“Is… Is this reality?”

You nod, letting out a small grunt of affirmation. For some reason, words just aren’t coming to you now. So, in lieu of a more useful answer, you set the golf club aside, and walk towards her, offering a hand up. In answer, you get an impact to the chest, and a pair of arms wrapping tightly around your waist. Her face is buried in your chest, as warm tears stain your shirt. Unsure of what to do, you slowly put a hand on her back, carefully patting the girl. She’s there, solid. She doesn’t disappear at your touch like you thought she might, your hand doesn’t phase through her like a hologram. No, she’s just here somehow, holding you and crying tears of what you can only assume are joy. Eventually, you think, you’re going to have to figure out how this happened. But, at least for right now, that’s not exactly at the top of your list of things to do.

Eventually, you feel her grip flag a bit, and she pulls back, looking up to you. Wet lines trace their way down her face, and you can’t help but find yourself smiling back at her. You might not know what to do in this exact situation, but that seems like a safe enough bet, right? Slowly, you take in a deep breath, and let it out, trying once again to find some words. And find them you do.

“Let’s uh… Move to the living room, and get you situated, alright?” Your voice shakes a bit, wondering if that’s the right term, or if it even really matters right now. She nods a bit, and lets go of you, letting you lead the way to your so-called living room. Really, it’s more just the non-kitchen, non-bedroom, non-bathroom part of the apartment, but that sort of pedantry really isn’t important right now. You motion her towards the old beater of a couch at one side of the room, then dip into the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water and a coaster. Setting it down at the coffee table, far from the book stack, you pull up some space beside her. She graciously takes the drink, and downs the entire glass.

“Huh I thought it’d taste… More. I guess water’s still water, even here, huh?” She smiles, laughing at the observation. It’s soft and lilting, a fluttering sort of laugh that catches in your ear, and sticks around for just a bit, even after she’s stopped. You reply with a shrug, and are about to say something, when she cuts in again. “I just want to make sure, before I say anything else… You’re him, right? I mean, the player?” You return another nod, then think to add something to this conversation, lest it become totally one sided.

“Yeah, that’s me. Or, at least, I’m the player for this specific instance of you. I dunno if there are more, or well… Even how you got here exactly, if I’m being honest.” You chuckle, and pat her on the shoulder, “Not exactly sure if I’m who you thought I’d be, but well, I’m… Me. And here. And very, very confused.” She returns the laugh, and scoots closer, wrapping an arm around your own, her head leaning into your shoulder. It’s not unpleasant per se, but you’re still definitely not used to this sort of thing, at least not from someone who’s nominally a stranger. Or… Is she a stranger? You’ve played the game enough times to know her in and out, at least from what’s presented to the player. But she doesn’t really know you, at least not the real you. Though, right now, it does seem she doesn’t particularly care about that. “Hey so-”

And then, a long, low growl peels out from her stomach, stopping your words in their tracks. She looks down, blushing a bit. “Sorry, uh… Guess I’m hungry.” So, you respond the only way you think you can. Ruffling her hair, you unwrap her from your arm and stand up, a smile on your face yet again.

“You’re vegetarian, right?” She nods, matching your smile. “Well, guess you’re in luck then, cause grilled cheese is on me today.” 


End file.
